


Remember Yorkshire

by harpybones



Series: Of Humans and Monsters [5]
Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Timelines, Bad Ending, Childhood Memories, Crossing Timelines, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil W. D. Gaster, Gen, Human-Monster War (Undertale), I'm Sorry, Insanity, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Reality Bending, W. D. Gaster Being An Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 16:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harpybones/pseuds/harpybones
Summary: Reflecting on the world he lives in now, and the past that he misses so dearly, Seam recalls the traumatic events that brought this reality into existence, and what resulted in his agonizing pessimism.Everything he held dear was ripped away. What did he have left to lose?And...Was any of this even real in the first place?(In which Seam tries to save Jevil's mind from crumbling apart, and recalls life before Spades brings them underground.The world breaks and timelines split as a certain scientist reverts back to his dark ways. He knew he couldn't play the good doctor for long. )(This can be read as either shipped or not.)





	Remember Yorkshire

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Mental abuse (sorta, not explicitly)
> 
> Also, be sure to read Shadow Revolver first. This takes place directly after it. (and read the rest of this series while you're at it. Everything ties together in the end.)

     Even after several thousand years, Seam continued to visit the imp in the Sanitarium. Sometime's Jevil's cell appeared empty. Sometimes he heard distant cackling. The cell wasn't quite large enough for him to be that far away, or far enough where Seam couldn't see him, but Seam knew logic wasn't in this world’s agenda anymore. Their entire reality was doomed, but Jevil continued babbling to him about a change that would happen soon. Seam didn't question the devil's beliefs. Jevil wasn't in the right mind to debate with, and if this prophecy of saviour and destruction made him content in his sickness, who was he to deny him that clarity?

 

*

 

     It happened about 20 years ago, if the mage remembered correctly. After a wave of gloomy blight and depression swooped over the kingdom.

 

Seam descended on the stone stairs, down into the castle's “special” prison. With him, he brought a bag packed with all sorts of little things. Books, ribbons, flags, maps, even specific foods, and clothing. The mage quietly walked through the halls, trying not to disturb the other prisoners, and soon arrived at his destination. The largest cell in the sanitarium, which contained someone very important to him.

 

Seam knew the risks of his voodoo. He knew what would happen once he aimed for the head, but he had no other choice. Jevil would have slept for a very long time afterward, and be at peace, even if it was temporary. Eventually, he would wake up. His memory would be clouded. Seam made arrangements to help regain it properly. He hoped he could bring out only the good memories, and leave the bad behind. He hoped to stop the growth of his insanity.

 

Immediately the devil recognized Seam's soft footsteps. He was quick to pick up the pattern Seam had when visiting. Jevil anticipated his arrival each time. Like a dog to its companion, Jevil rushed to the bars of the cell, excited to see what Seam brought this time. The mage sat down in front of the cage, sitting the bag in front of himself. Before Seam could start an introduction, Jevil spoke up.

 

“S…” He dragged out the ‘sh’ sound, trying to force the movements his mouth was supposed to make. He remembered the name. Clearly. Vividly. It was in his head, a wonderful memory, but his mouth, his voice, would not create the word.

 

He tried.

 

“S….”

 

Again.

 

“S…..”

 

And again.

 

“S…...”

 

Jevil struggled, but Seam waved his hand. “It's alright.” He softly said. “Don't push yourself-”

 

“S…Seam…” A smile quickly crossed the imp's face. “Seam…! Seam!” He repeated.

 

A bit shocked, Seam grinned but gestured for the ex-jester to quieten down. “Shh, shh, Jevil. You don't want to disturb the others.”

 

Jevil frowned. “Ssss...sorry…” He attempted to say. He knew the word. He knew what to say, but it was just so difficult to bring it aloud.

 

“It's alright. Your speech is improving wonderfully, though. I'm proud of you.”

 

Jevil grinned. “P...pro...proud? Pr...oud...good?”

 

“Of course.” Seam opens the bag and pulls out a smaller, clear bag filled with little pastries. Golden toasted, with sugar sprinkled atop it, the small round dessert let off a sweet scent. “Remember these?” He asked. “You used to love these.”

 

Seam reached through the bars to give the pastry bag to him. Jevil took one of the treats and nibbled on it a bit. The taste gave him flashbacks of earlier times, easier days, filled with happiness and peace.

 

It felt so distant.

 

The imp sat down, holding the bag in his hands, and still nibbling on the dessert. Seam then took out two flags and various ribbons and laid them out in front of him. Jevil gazed at them. Each ribbon was uniquely designed, handsewn and painted. The flags were tattered and worn. The first was white with a red cross in the center that stretched across it. The Other was much older, a deep red with three golden lions stacked in the center on one another.

 

Jevil took a moment to think. “R…” He began, roughly exaggerating the R's sound. “Ri...Rich...Richard…?”

 

Seam smiled. “That's right. King Richard the Lionheart. A legendary hero to the humans. Unbeknownst to them, he was quite a fan of magic.”

 

Jevil looked to the ribbons. On them, a few words were inscribed. The imp glanced one, “Willes êower! duguð torhtian, wr¯ætlic! ærnan bæcling siððon!” it read. The writing on the other ribbons didn't appear much more different. They all seemed to bare cheerful messages to someone, a group of people, to return and perform again. Jevil felt something clear up in his brain. It hurt a bit.

 

Lastly, Seam sat down a few books in front of the cage. The mage held a small one in his hand. It wasn't a normal book, though. It was something personal. A journal. Seam passed it through the prison bars. Jevil held it tightly. He felt a rush of clarity and sudden peace. He opened to a random page. It was written in Old English. The language felt familiar, just like before. Somehow, Jevil's brain read it seamlessly.

 

_“April 3, 1195_

_The Lionheart is quite the man. Who knew a human could admire magic as much as this? The King himself is quite the character, in truth. Friendly and ever humble. I, as well as the others, personally think of him as one of our favorites. He adores each trick and spell. Every little act puts a smile on the Warrior King's face. For a reputation as a merciless brute in war, King Richard is rather caring and kind in person._

_We were a bit hesitant at first when he sent a courier to deliver us a letter, requesting our presence at his next Royal Party. We never expected this from a human. Nonetheless, we went, and it was the greatest decision we've ever made, in my opinion! So many humans that were ignorant of monster kind changed their views in almost an instant. An accomplishment!_

_Seam appeared a little nervous during the party, though. Perhaps all the humans made him nervous, but I don't really think that's the case since he seemed to perform just fine in front of them. It wasn't until the act was over and we were walking together that he seemed anxious. It was almost as if he had something to say, but couldn't. Maybe he didn't quite have enough courage? I'd love to help him with confidence, but I wouldn't want to bring this up and embarrass him. Maybe he doesn't want anything said. Maybe it's nothing at all. Regardless, everything went well today! I hope for happier days such as this in our future! If humans are starting to warm up to us now, all should be well in the years ahead, right?”_

Jevil flipped to other pages. The farther he went, the entries were shorter, the writing became more strange until they suddenly stopped. He flipped back to the last entry.

 

_? ?, ????_

_I S?W HIM STA ? IN G AT ME AG A ? N TODA Y_

_TH ? KN ? ? HT W ? NTS ME D EA ?_

_THE Y WA ? T ME DE ?D_

_PL E? S?_

_I WA? T TO GO B ACK H O ME_

_TO ?????????_

_YO R K S? IR ?_

_?????????????_

 

Jevil stared down at the page. His fingers gently tapped the paper as he examined the odd writing. A sudden spark appeared in his brain. His mouth began to form and spout words, without his own control.

 

“Y-Y-Yor...York....”

 

Seam gasped. “You remember?”

 

“York...shire. Yorkshire…?”

 

“That's right, Jevil.” The mage felt emotions weld up within him. “Our home was Yorkshire.”

 

“Yorkshire…” The imp repeated, quietly. Without thinking, Jevil attempted to reach out through the cage's bars to Seam, until his hands began to burn. He gasped and pulled away. Seam reached in, and Jevil grabbed ahold of his hands. Jevil stared off into space. Millions of things ran through his mind at once. Memories, the past, good times and bad times, and something very important. Jevil tried to focus on this thought, but he couldn't keep hold of it. It slipped away, like a feather in rapid winds.

 

And soon, it grew dark. Jevil tightened his grip around Seam's hand. He knew this feeling. He knew it well. The icy, prickly chill that made his skin feel cold and wet, the way his body would shake, the phantom pains and sounds, and the figures that weren't really there.

 

He knew this feeling.

 

It was evil.

 

Then he saw him once again.

 

Clad in jet black armor, his red eyes were focused on the imp as he arose from the shadows. Each noisy clanking step he took made Jevil grip Seam's hand tighter and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“Jevil…?” Seam whispered. “What's-”

 

“...won't…b-believe...me…” he whimpered. “B…but he's...there…”

 

Seam frowned. “Who, Jevil? Who is there?”

 

“The Knight…!” he cried.

 

Seam looked behind him and saw nothing but the dark, dusty halls of the prison. He turned back to Jevil.

 

Jevil continued to hold on to Seam's hand. “I...I know y-you don't...see it...Seam…” He sputtered. “But…” Jevil stopped. Just over Seam's shoulder, stood the Knight, staring down at Jevil with his scarlet red pupils.

 

**“I haven't seen a more pitiful creature.**

**Count your blessings, devil. The skeleton mage has you on his list.**

**But,**

**If you let me in, I will help you.”**

 

Jevil gasped. “I...I'd r-rather die!”

 

**“This wasn't an offer.”**

 

Jevil didn't budge. Seam couldn't hear the other side conversation, but he knew Jevil wasn't just talking to himself. He truly believes he saw the Knight, or maybe he actually did, and Seam was the blind one.

 

The imp's hold became weak, and Jevil eventually let go completely.

 

In Jevil's mind, the room was spinning. Twisting. Turning. The Knight stepped through the bars and moved towards him. With powerful force, the Knight grabbed onto Jevil's shirt and dragged the imp across the cell floor, into the darkness.

 

Seam only saw Jevil curled up in a ball, whispering to himself.

 

He should have known he couldn't keep the insanity away. It would come back, one way or another. Seam knows that, as much as he wants to deny it, the bad outweighs the good in this situation. It was only inevitable. He needs to accept that.

 

Out of nowhere, the entire prison begins to shake. Loose rock on the walls and ceiling rattle out of place and bounce across the stone floor. Seam stepped back. The other prisoners were fearful. Crying aloud for someone to help. Seam was too frightened himself, he couldn't think straight. He didn't know what to do.

 

He felt the change. The atmosphere, the space, the time, everything. He felt it all around him.

 

But Jevil saw the change. Before his eyes, he saw the particles marvel together and split. He saw a bright door open in front of him. He moved closer to it, reaching out. He felt a powerful force pushing down onto his hands, and through the door, he saw him. The shadowy figure, his raven-black tattered robes, his crooked smile, and cracked skull, Jevil knew who he was immediately.

 

In an instant, the whole ordeal appeared before Seam.

 

Gaster managed up this amount of power from the tear he created in reality. He discovered everything that the simple minded couldn't see. The jester he met thousands of years ago, he was very bright and open-minded. He was intelligent and curious. Gaster now sees the consequences of living around those toxic fountains has taken a toll on him.

 

But, perhaps that's not a bad thing.

 

Maybe, it could be an advantage.

 

The Knight attempted to pull Jevil away from Gaster, but with a simple gesture of the skeleton's hand, the Knight freed Jevil, dropping him to the ground.

 

**“I know your games, mage. I knew it since I first heard of you. Your past as a psychotic alchemist is all but forgotten, Dominik. You disgusting wretch.”**

 

Gaster chuckled. “You say that as if I'm supposed to care.”

 

 **“Of course you don't, and I didn't expect you to. But regardless, your efforts here are futile. This world is mine, and you will have no power here.”** The Knight scoffed.

 

“Sorry, what quantum physiology degree do you have, again? Last I checked, your kingdom cared not for scientific studies, or any education at all, in fact.”

 

The Knight began to fume, his shadows enlarged as he filled with rage. **“Is everything a joke to you?! Your destruction ceases right here! This kingdom, this reality, is mine! You will not destroy it! This jester here will be my voice. He will be my image, for his mind is ever large and bright. He will preach of my perfect world! You will not take him from me!”**

 

Gaster stepped further towards the other monsters. “In what world do you have the authority to speak to me in that way? Sir Knight, with the flick of my finger, you'll be gone.” He smiled. “Give it up, you pathetic whelp. That devil's psyche is mine. This world revolves around me and my power.” The mage summoned a number of skeletal hands around him. They all pointed to the Knight. “You are nothing but wasted potential.”

 

 **“It appears your ego has grown with your skill.”** He stepped away. **“I'm not surprised.”** The Knight, along with his shadows, began to melt into the concrete floor. **“Don't think if this as the end, Dominik. You've only started a nightmare, and we all know it's coming. We've felt it since you split the world in two. I'll see you again. All of you, in the shadow of my hand.”** Only a few moments afterwards, he was gone.

 

Jevil turned to Seam, who was frozen in place. The mage was somewhere between confused and terrified.

 

“Come now, Jester.” Gaster beckoned. “Your mind is strong, and your spirit stronger. Help me turn this reality inside out.”

 

“B-But…” Jevil stuttered. “But why...d-do you w-want to do this…? Why destroy?”

 

“Not exactly destroy. Rebuild. Don't you think this world is tainted? Boring, even? Sometimes we need a little chaos to fix the darkened nature of this universe. Destruction leaves remnants, and with those, we can build back up to a better time. A better world where everything is what you wanted it to be in the beginning.”

 

Jevil thought about it for a moment. “Chaos…” He overheard Seam yelling something in the background, but couldn't make sense of it. He couldn't focus on anything else but this.

 

Gaster extended his hand to him. “Bring them your ultimate chaos, Jester. You can do anything.”

 

Jevil reached out to grab onto it but paused. “Wait…” He said. “What if I want to do something different-”

 

Gaster grimaced and grabbed onto Jevil's hand with an unnecessary amount of force. _“You don't have a choice in this world anymore.”_

 

Looking into the skeleton's hollow eye sockets, a blackened void, Jevil heard Seam's yells perfectly clear.

 

“No!” he screamed, over and over, each one was much louder and frightened than the last. But they were pointless.

 

Moments passed, everything became a blinding white light. A loud, a pitched sound rung in his ears, and soon Seam woke up on the cold stone ground. He heard him cackling behind those bars, and it seemed as if everything had reverted back to the past. All his efforts wasted. Seam stood up and walked back up to the stairs as Jevil’s maniacal laughter echoed through the ruined prison halls. If he could, he'd be in tears.

 

He just wanted to leave. Leave the prison, the kingdom, this whole damn world. Leave and never wake up again.

 

***

 

      _A long time ago, during the years of medieval British civilization, monsters and humans didn't coexist very well. They each had their own settlements, usually very far from each other. One woman, simply known as the “Patchwork Witch” was often feared by humans, but was welcomed by some monster communities. Some monsters still kept their prejudices to her, but others were more than happy to trade with her._

_She had sewn herself together after an attack on the previous village she lived in. The witch hunters were after her specifically. They threw burning bottles at her, poured hot tar, shot flaming spears and arrows, and various other things. The sewn “patches” on her skin were discolored due to her injuries. One of her eyes, which was injured and eventually became nonfunctional, she replaced with a marble._

_Her appearance was viewed as grotesque and made finding love difficult. She saw no love or family in her future._

_She took it upon herself to make it happen._

_For several months, the witch studied her ancient books and writings that were handed down to her. She practiced spells and studied incantations she'd need for this tedious project. She gathered supplies, cotton, and linen from the monster traders, sticks from around her home, and flowers from her garden outside. Inside her home, she placed the basket down onto her ashwood table and began to construct the framework of her makeshift child. She bundled the sticks and cotton together into a humanoid shape. She began twisting the sticks into clusters, and tying the cotton around it when suddenly, she stopped._

_The witch came to realize, she hadn't yet decided what she wanted. She didn't know what she desired for her own child. Did she want a daughter? A son? Will it mimic a human? If it was made like this, wouldn't it be a monster? There were many options laid out for her, she knew. With this project, she could make whatever she wanted. It didn't have to look human. This child could be unique among others. This child could be just like her._

_She pondered the various designs within her head, when she heard the mewls of her cats outside, as they nursed and cared for their kittens. It was then that the witch had pieced together her vision._

_Once she finished the framework, she dyed the linen wraps with purple elderberries and marigolds and sewed them together around the frame. She added ears, a nose, and a fluffy tail to make its feline appearance. Afterwards, she sewed marbles into the face of the doll to create eyes. She stitched a mouth into its face, which would soon become fully functioning._

_When the work was complete, the witch looked upon her creation. A small doll, about 4 feet in height, laid there on the ashwood table. She quickly grabbed her scratched down spells and read them aloud._

_“Dêadlic fl¯æsc−mete! âðrôwian hwæðre bl¯æd!eallcræftig setnes, brâdian sê n¯æman onbryrdnes!” She chanted, as the doll began to arise and live. She then flipped to the next spell, which would allow the body to morph and grow as the doll aged. “Mægden sê ðâ ðe fl¯æsc−mete bât gengan mid welhwâ pro môna forscieppan!”_

_Soon, the doll was fully aware and functioning. The witch stepped forward and patted the head of the cat-like creature. “Seam,” she whispered. “It is your name, my wonderful son.”_

 

*

 

      _Seam sat under an old ash tree, trying to figure out how to fix this rip on his arm. It was only a few weeks ago he discovered he wasn't…organic, as the others said. Now he realized he had to be more careful with what he did. He tried to push the edges of the torn pieces together, but it didn't do anything. He felt kinda foolish, really. How was he supposed to take care of himself if he couldn't even fix his own injuries? How irresponsible._

_Unbeknownst to him, Seam was being watched from afar. It seems the young monster had treaded onto someone else's territory._

_Seam flicked an ear as movement approached him. He looked around the tree's large trunk but didn't see anything. He looked around the other side but saw nothing as well. He began to think, either he was paranoid, or someone was messing with him._

_Assuming he was just hearing things, Seam decided he'd just return to his mother and have her fix it, ending his little exploration early today. But just as he stood up, he felt a quick breeze rush past, and a few feet away from him stood an unfamiliar monster._

_“Some nerve ya got there, lad. Stompin’ upon another gent's land like that.”_

_The boy's accent was thick, Seam noted. He didn't appear upset, however. More humorous, actually. Seam stepped away a bit._

_“Oh, sorry.” He apologized. “I didn't know this belonged to you…”_

_The violet monster chuckled. “Nah, it's quite alright. I don't really mind. T'is kinda selfish to claim a whole area to yer'self, dontcha think?”_

_“Um, perhaps…?”_

_“Ah, well, t'is t'me.” He glanced down at the tear in Seam's arm. “Hey, ya got a little rip there.”_

_“I'm, um, well aware of that. I was actually going to-”_

_“Hey, aren't you the Patchwork Witch's kid? Heard about ya. Some monsters are kinda upset about what she did, y'know. Makin’ you a monster. Wonder how much shite they give your arse about that. Must suck.”_

_Seam tried to hold in a laugh. It's definitely the thickest Northerner accent he's ever heard. “Yeah, they do, um, pick on me a lot because of it. Sometimes it gets a bit more...aggressive than that. The other children will call my mother an “ugly hag” and other things like that. I just ignore it.”_

_The fae-like monster ran his hands through his black hair. “I never really had a problem with yer mum before. She's always been quite friendly with my kind.”_

_Seam nodded. Curiosity got the best of him, and he just had to ask. “If you, um, don't mind, where are, heh, where are you from?”_

_“Northumberland.” He smiled. “Just down from Hadrian's wall. Y’know, what used to separate England from the Picts. Supposedly, in ancient times.”_

_“Interesting. So what are you doing in Yorkshire?”_

_“Had to move. Humans were bringin’ us down left and right. Arrows flyin’ everywhere. It was a nightmare. But I'm not complainin’. I like it here. Not as cold.”_

_Seam nodded. “Oh, I'm Seam by the way…”_

_“Heh, kinda skipped greetings, didn't we?” The imp laughed. “Jevil.” He glanced over at a small group of flax flowers growing by the tree. Reaching over, he picked a handful of the flowers and turned back to Seam. “Ya mean to tell me ya've been sittin’ ‘re, this whole time, with a tear in yer arm, and didn't notice the flax growin’ over 're?”_

_Seam stared back at him, dumbfounded._

_“Wow, she's really sheltered ya, didn't she?” He chuckled. “Lemme show ya how it's done here in the wild.”_

 

*

 

      _When Jevil finished stitching up the tear, it was dusk. Seam knew his mother would die of a heart attack if he wasn't back soon. She was quite the overreactor. Seam thanked Jevil for his kindness and told him he had to leave before it got dark._

_“Aye, I should go on home as well.” He responded. “I don't really enjoy hunting at night. Wolves are a mean competition. I kinda miss meals ‘cause of them bastards.”_

_“You hunt for yourself?” Seam asked. “Your parents don't help you?”_

_“I'm sure they would if they were alive.”_

_“...Oh.” Seam felt bad for asking. “When's the last time you ate?”_

_“I haven't eaten a real meal in quite a few days, I think. Mostly just scavenge around for elderberries or something. Or a carcass left by wolves....”_

_How terrible, Seam thought to himself. Someone having to live like that, it must be tough. “Well, um, if you're hungry, you can come to my house and-”_

_“Nah, nah, I'm not gonna put that burden on ya. T'is fine.”_

_“Burden? Not at all. Come on, my mother wouldn't mind at all. And hey, maybe we can get to know each other better, Jevil.” He grabbed onto the other boy's hand and guided him to the path that leads down to his mother's cottage._

_The devil chuckled. “If you say so.”_

 

*

 

_…._

_…._

_…._

_“Hey, Seam, may I confess?”_

_Seam looked up from his desk. “Of course. What's on your mind?”_

_“I think I owe you an explanation…”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_Jevil rubbed his hands together. “...Northumberland was a massacre. Hundreds of monsters were killed, but at the same time, hundreds of humans were, too…”_

_Seam turned his chair around to face Jevil directly._

_“They were gathering monster's up in groups and branded us with burning iron rods. The ends were shaped like pentagrams. Their symbol of evil…”_

_“Did you get branded?”_

_Jevil pulled his tunic over his head and turned around, revealing a large pentagram burned into his left shoulder blade. The scar tissue was discolored, a pale violet against his darker skin. “It was only seconds after that several boss monsters broke free and let the rest of us loose. They killed many of the humans there, even innocents, those that had nothing to do with the situation. Bystanders, traders, and children. That caused other humans to become hostile...and the rest is self-explanatory.”_

_Seam noticed more scarring across the devil's thin and bony frame. “Why did they do that to you in the first place?”_

_Jevil pulled his tunic back over his head and fastened his leather belt. “Several of the humans in that village were already suspicious of monster's, but once several human children started going missing, they became even more anxious about us. Then, when human children were found dead in front of the monster district, they went crazy. Thing was though, it wasn't us, it was the Forest Stalkers. Savage monsters that live in the woods around the village. They framed us to save themselves.” He paused. “They always saw us as evil satanic creatures, but I never thought they'd take it that far…”_

_“It's all in the past now.” Seam smiled. “Many humans have put aside their hatred and are more welcoming of monsters. We shouldn't have to worry about that, Jevil.”_

**_But how does it feel to be so wrong?_ **

 

***

 

     Late at night, Seam laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He contemplated everything, all the chaos, all the voices, all the insanity, all the...all the what? The...

 

Why would it matter anyway?

 

Was this really all there was?

 

Was this just a bad dream?

 

And was any of this even real at all?

 

Perhaps he's just asleep, and he'll wake up, warm in his white stag fur bed, with England's sun shining brightly through his mosaic window. He'll wake up to the warm Yorkshire mornings, listening to the sparrows and the village band playing outside. He'll walk over to the next room to wake up Jevil, so the imp can get his day started, too. The past memories felt so welcoming to him if only he could live it again.

 

But that won't happen, will it?

 

Not in this life, no.

 

There is only darkness here.

 

_**And it will only get darker.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Only one part left, after Mother was in Violet! Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me as this series grew, I couldn't have done it without the motivation you gave.


End file.
